


The Puppet's Eyes

by Scattered_Irises



Series: Saffrons in the Palm of Your Hand [1]
Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! Zexal
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Ending to the Illusion of Reunification, Christopher-centric, Forced Feminization, Forced Pregnancy, Gen, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Torture, Misogyny
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-19
Updated: 2018-10-19
Packaged: 2019-08-04 06:46:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16341833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scattered_Irises/pseuds/Scattered_Irises
Summary: She walks around the mansion like a ghost, carrying the distant echoes of those terrible scream-filled nights. It's hard to believe that she was once someone he knew and loved. It's hard to believe that he said no and yet a worse fate awaited them. It's hard to believe that was once Kaito. So he doesn't. He separates her from him.





	The Puppet's Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> I'm just going to throw this here and see how you guys are going to piece this all together.

  She slowly walks through Carnation Valley’s empty halls, a hand almost always on her stomach. Every week, it seems to grow larger and larger, as if it were a tumor instead of a child. He’d rather it have been that than a child. Even if it killed her. After all, Kaito was dying before the surgery. There'd be no difference then. A tumor would be better than whatever came out of his father and...Kathryn's unholy union. Because that child would forever remind him of the nights filled with screaming and crying. Where she begged for him to come save her. And he never did.

  
  If he listens well, he can hear the telltale _pit pat_ of her slippers. And if he hears her soon enough, he can find somewhere else to go before she finds him. Her sad, blue eyes were just too much for him to bear, for they told him the truth. The terrible, awful truth. That they were just marionettes on strings, dancing to his father's cruel whims. He hates seeing and hearing the truth, because he knows it's true. And he knows that he can't do anything about it. So why face it at all?  
 

  The last time she found him, she was wearing a white, thin dressing gown with billowing sleeves. For a moment, he thought that she was a ghost, come to haunt him. Her hair was styled in loose ringlets, splayed over her shoulders. Her lips were thin and he could see a dark bruise on the left side of her forehead. And, of course, there were the usual dark circles under her eyes, so pale and blue. Once, he had thought that those eyes were beautiful, framed by those long lashes. But now, he realizes that they were sad and had always been so.

  
  Those were the eyes that told of a life of being used and controlled. A puppet’s sad, glassy set of eyes. He can barely remember when those eyes lit up with joy. Perhaps it was when they were surrounded by fireflies, the creatures giving Kaito's pale features a lively glow. But Kaito had also cried a bit, didn’t he? It had always been that way. A happy moment followed by melancholy, as if he felt guilty for being happy.

  
  Every night before he goes to sleep, he sees those sad eyes in the dark. No matter where he looks, he sees them. They haunt his dreams, pale blue beacons in the dark night. He hates having dinner with her, too. The table is too short and she sits right in front of him. They all sit in uncomfortable silence, silverware scraping the gold rimmed plates the only sound heard. On one side of the table is him and Thomas. On the other side is Byron and...her. He refuses to call her Kaito. It’s Kathryn. It truly is. Kaito wouldn’t have bowed down to someone like his father. But Kathryn would have.

  
  On that day when she found him, in her spectral-like dressing gown, she touched the top of the seat that he was sitting in.

  
  “Chris..,” she calls, ever so quietly.

  
  He had been so engrossed in reading the paper that he didn’t hear her approach. When she called his name, he jumped a bit. He hated it whenever she called him Chris. That was something reserved only for Kaito.

  
  It was a cold winter day, the trees bare, the grass a faded green. The fire had been reduced to lifeless ashes, but he loathed the idea of stoking another flame, having to leave his seat to do so. The blinds were only half open, but even if they had been fully opened, the fitful sunlight would have done little to improve the ambiance. There was something forlorn about the living room in such a gray light. As if this was how it had looked like after his father’s disappearance and the house had been abandoned.

  
  5 years ago...He would have been 17, still blissfully unaware of the fact that he had been working under his father’s murderer. And Kaito would still have been sweet and innocent. Not...his stepmother carrying his half-sibling. The thought makes his heart wrench. He should have said _yes_ at the altar. If he had obeyed his father then...things would have been less worse. Yes, Kathryn would still exist but at least she would be married to him and not to his monster of a father. And perhaps then he would have still called Kaito by his name and not by the name Byron gave him after the surgery. He would have accepted his reality. But this...this was...unbearable.

  
  He looked up at the ghost that stood besides his chair, a customary hand on her stomach. A few more weeks and she would be due. The thought sends a chill down his back. If it goes wrong, the screams would return. The begging, the crying...the unanswered pleads for help. He was always too scared of his father’s wrath to reply. After all, it wasn’t something to be trifled with. The scars on his and Thomas’s backs told the tale.

  
  In silence, they both looked at the charred remains of the long gone fire. It was a moment of contemplation for both of them, looking at those black, black ashes. How was it once part of something so lively? A fire, cheerfully burning wood, its merry crackles filling the room...now reduced to a silent pile of ashes.

  
  There’s a sad irony to this scene and he’s sure she’s also aware of the fact. In a sense, the charred remains of the fire was their relationship. Once filled with the fire of trust and friendship and then extinguished with the waters of shame, remorse and pain. And just when they were repairing it so well…

  
  He’ll remember that stormy night for the rest of his life. Kaito’s forlorn expression will never leave his mind. He knew he could have had a chance of going back to those sunny days in oblivion. But he didn’t take the chance, too far consumed by anger. Two and a half years later, the ghosts of the past returned to haunt him. His father had walked to the altar while he was midway through the door. Looking back, he saw Kaito’s brief expression before his student turned around again to face his father. Fear. Absolute terror, thinly veiled by a worried mask.

 _Please don’t leave me here_ , begged his student with his sad blue eyes. _You know I have no choice but to say_ yes _to this man_.

  
  But he feared his father’s wrath and closed the cathedral’s doors behind him, abandoning Kaito once again. Wasn’t that what Kaito wanted, for him to say no? Who knew Byron would have taken his place as the bridesgroom? He runs that scene over and over again in his mind on some nights. _It isn’t my fault. It isn’t my fault. It isn’t my fault._ He repeats those words like a mantra, over and over again. As if he could relieve himself of the guilt if he said it enough.

  
  Yet the next morning, Kathryn would still be there, with all of her bruises and misery. If he wasn’t such a coward, he would have held her close and apologized to her, over and over again. To Kathryn. To Kaito. He wants them to be friends again. He truly does, terrible familial relationships and everything. Perhaps he would be even comfortable enough to call Kathryn Kaito again.

  
  They’re nothing but fantasies, though. Reality was cold and harsh. He had been paralyzed by his own cowardice, beaten into submission by the man he once loved. It was awful, being forced to watch what Byron did to Kaito...but what could he have done? The silent guilt, the late night tears and screaming continued on and on until they realized that this had become their new reality. And now there they were, two people staring at the remains of a fireplace. The interminable silence stretched on until Kathryn let out a sigh.

  
  “I’d rather have it be yours than his,” she says, ever so quietly.

  
  She still has Kaito’s lovely accent. Christopher swallows hard. He doesn’t know what to say to this, but there’s no need to reply. When he turns to look at her, she’s already gone, her telltale _pit pats_ whispering amongst the halls.

* * *

 

  Today, he’s in the library with a cup of tea and a book detailing the intricate workings of the three known dimensions. Heaven, Earth and Hell. Astral World, the human world and Barian World. Somewhere, in the midst of the 22nd century, those names had been changed to be less religiously affiliated. It’s an outdated book, researched by a team of scientists from the early 22nd century, the terms, Heaven and Hell still used. To him, reading this book is more for interest than for study. He is like a historian reading early manuscripts detailing the creation of the world. They hold a pinch of truth to them, but it’s mainly speculation and myth. He enjoys finding what has been proven, disproven and what continues to be debated. In his mind, he constantly questions the technology of the time and the methods being used.

  
  In the midst of reading about the energy level fluctuations of Hell, he hears the doors open. Perhaps it was Thomas, looking for something he had misplaced. Maybe it was his father, finding a book to put on his bedside table. Or...perhaps it was Michael. His throat catches at the thought of his brother. Such a brave and foolish thing he did...running away like that, with Kathryn in tow. Yet only Kathryn was dragged back into Carnation Valley. From the servants’ gossip, he heard that Michael had ran through the gates and never looked back. Because of that, the house was filled with Kathryn’s tortured screams from sunrise to sundown for weeks.

  He shivers at the memory and nearly jumps out of his skin when he hears the slow _pit pat pit pat_ of silk slippers. Closing the book, he looks up. Today, she wears a dress of blue with white embroidered flowers. The circles around her eyes have darkened, if that was possible. Noting the size of her stomach, he greets her with slightly narrowed eyes.

  “It isn’t healthy for women who are about to be due to wander about. I trust you know where you are going?”

  
  He inwardly kicks himself. The words sounded colder than he intended them to be. He had always voiced his worry in the worst way possible. Condescendingly. Just like his father. A wave of self-loathing washes over him.

  
  She pauses for a few minutes, trying to hide her hurt emotions. After a few moments, she returns back to her usual defeated expression. Even after all of the bone restructuring and plastic surgery, she still resembles Dr. Faker whenever she makes that face. It brings a chill down his spine whenever he sees that face and now he realizes why. _No matter how much you erase, there will always be remnants of the past that you try so hard to hide._

  Regret continues to fill his heart as she makes her way towards him. There’s a new set of bruises around her wrist, the pale skin around it even paler next to the purple flesh. She takes a seat besides him and pours herself a cup of tea.

  “I wasn’t looking for you. I promise. It’s just...I was growing restless,” she says quietly.

  He takes a sip of his lukewarm tea, trying to ignore the prickles crawling up his back. He doesn't want to see the truth. Not now. Her eyes slowly trail to the book in his lap. He sees the hunger in them, the desire to eat the forbidden fruit. Before, Kaito could have just taken that book from his lap and open it with resigned interest. But now, she is only allowed to take books from the shelf in the left corner of the library. The section with the romantic poetry, genteel mysteries, civilized romances and the etiquette books. Nothing deemed too dangerous.

  None of the scientific research papers, studies or deep analyses Kaito so preferred. Knowledge was a dangerous thing, and his father was well aware of that fact. If he could prevent even a small part of her sharp mind from improving itself, he would take it.

  “Will you please read that to me…?” she asks, her voice barely above a whisper.

  Her eyes look around the library in fear, as if Byron would come out from the shadows. He sees the hand holding the cup of tea begin to shake a bit. Up close, the bruises appear all around her wrist, the imprints of a rope marking the otherwise pristine skin. Before his imagination takes over, he forces himself to fully look at her face. Her expression is earnest and for once, he can see a glimmer of hope shining in her eyes.  
 

  “I...it’s an early 22nd century study on the three dimensions. It’s...quite outdated,” he replies awkwardly.

  “Still. I want you to read it to me. I want to hear what they got right and what they got wrong. I want to see if we can expand on some of their theories,” she presses, her voice growing fervent.

  _We_. That word doesn’t slip through Christopher. She must miss being in the lab, being able to invent and study as she pleased. A small voice in his head tells him that she still considers him a friend. _We_. Looking at Kathryn once again, his hand stills. We. Oh gods. Even after all Byron did to him, this was still Kaito. His student. His friend. His fellow researcher.

  
  He had known this the entire time. Of course he did. Kathryn was just his way of avoiding the truth. The need to apologize not for himself, but genuinely to Kaito resurfaces. His chin trembles and Kaito looks at him in concern.

  “Chris, is something the matter? I’ll leave you alone if you want me to..,” murmurs Kaito. “...I know I make you uncomfortable it’s just...it gets lonely here sometimes.”

  Kaito's hand flutters to his stomach and he drains his cup of tea. As always, he never put anything in it. When Kaito puts the cup down, Christopher gently wraps his fingers around Kaito’s wrist, mindful of the bruises. A violent tremor shakes Kaito’s body and he lets in a sharp gasp. He immediately pulls his hand away, facing no resistance from Christopher. For a moment, they both stare at each other.  
Furrowing his brows, Kaito turns away from Christopher.

  “...just got reminded of last night,” he says after a moment of silence.

  Christopher quietly nods and gives Kaito the book.

  “I’ll find another book,” he promises with a gentle smile.

  “But your father..,” begins Kaito hesitantly.

  “He isn’t here, now is he?” asks Christopher, a hint of his old self coming back.

  A smile slowly fills Kaito’s worn expression.

  “If you say so…”

  
  Slowly, he opens up the book, breathing in the smell of worn pages. Walking over to the shelves, Christopher looks back at Kaito. Even as he reads, there’s a small smile playing on his lips. Although it was a small smile, he could see the mirth dance in his pale blue eyes. Temporarily, Christopher had been able to cast away Kaito’s sadness with the speculations of dead men.

 

* * *

 

Illustration [here](http://scattered-irises.tumblr.com/post/180360544645/i-drew-kathryn-from-saffrons-in-the-palm-of-your)


End file.
